


My pleasure is at stake

by Anonymous



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Kink Discovery, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omorashi, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29721303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jaskier rarely regretted his decisions, he learned to live with his mistakes early in life. But not going for a piss before Geralt started ravaging him was a serious regret he held now.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 130
Collections: Anonymous





	My pleasure is at stake

**Author's Note:**

> This is for M because I lost a bet  
> Pls be kind I've never finished any of my writing before uwu

Jaskier rarely regretted his decisions, he learned to live with his mistakes early in life. But not going for a piss before Geralt started ravaging him was a serious regret he held now. He was lying on the bed on his back, Geralt towering over him, holding onto his thighs with a bruising grip.

Geralt was fucking into him with abandon and it felt good, great even, but Jaskiers slowly surging orgasm was overshadowed by the fullness of his bladder, the burning need being on the forefront of his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the cock filling him. He whined at an especially forceful thrust and started to babble. 

„Geralt, please, I can‘t…“ he couldn‘t finish his sentence, Geralt falling forward in one smooth move, practically bending Jaskier in half in the process. The increased pressure on his bladder made Jaskier swear colorfully. His hands gripped the thin blanket under him with force and he started to squirm under Geralt, arching his back and kicking his legs. 

„Geralt, I need to piss, get off of me!“ Jaskier had no patience anymore, any longer and he knew he wouldn't be able to make it off the bed unscathed. He screwed his eyes shut, felt the heat of humiliation blush his cheeks. Geralt stilled and Jaskier knew he was looking at him, could feel his piercing golden gaze even if he couldn‘t see it.

There were a few seconds of complete silence, neither of them moving nor breathing, and Jaskier knew this was it, this was the end of his trysts with the witcher. If Geralt would just move so the last memory of them fucking was not of Jaskier pissing all over himself and the bed. His cock twitched with interest and Jaskier groaned, this was not the time to add another kink to his, quite extensive, list.

He could hear Geralt inhaling through his nose sharply, sniffing him. Jaskier pushed out a breath when Geralt changed his stance slightly, his thick cock moving inside him, an arm shoving under Jaskiers arched back and holding him tight, somehow putting even more pressure on Jaskier's abdomen by bringing him closer.

Jaskier wasn‘t one to beg but he couldn‘t catch the „please“ in time before it slipped out of his mouth. Geralt stilled again and seemed to consider… well, something. The man was never easy to read, his breathing unfairly steady to Jaskiers panting breaths.

This was taking too long. Jaskier wanted to complain again when he felt something change. He opened his eyes just to see how he was lifted up by Geralt, held upright by a hand on his ass and the arm around his waist. Slightly panicked Jaskiers eyes widened and he slung his legs around Geralt's waist, Geralt's cock still buried deep inside him.

The Witcher took two steps towards the wooden wall and practically flung Jaskier and himself against it. The wall creaked and Jaskier let out an undignified whelp, holding onto Geralt's shoulder and head and grabbing a fist full of silver hair while the man buried his face in Jaskiers neck.

„Have you gone mad, I am not joking! Please…“ Jaskiers voice was rough and tinged with desperation. The position he was in now was even worse for his predicament, with Geralt's bulk crowding him against the wall, his solid muscles putting pressure on all the wrong places. And the man had the audacity to start moving again.

In any other situation Jaskier would‘ve welcomed this demonstration of Geralt's pure strength, held up by nothing but the man's big hands. But right now it was all too much. The pressure that had bordered on painful had tipped over the edge with the change of position. Jaskier whined, tears pricking his eyes. Geralt was single-mindedly nailing him to the wall seemingly without even noticing Jaskier’s begging.

„Geralt…“ he tried again. „Please, I can‘t…“. His voice barely a whisper now, all of his strength needed to keep himself from spilling over. And then he felt Geralt's mouth move from his neck where he had marked Jaskiers soft skin, bitten and bruised himself into Jaskiers flesh. His hot breath ghosting over the shell of Jaskier’s ear as he rumbled „I love it when you beg like this.“ and Jaskier couldn‘t contain the gasp this confession pulled from him. Geralt was not talkative outside of the bedroom, and even less so, if possible, inside of it.

Jaskier wanted to retort with something clever or witty but Geralt crowded even closer, burying his cock inside Jaskier and honest to god groaned. „You‘re so tight, all desperate and clenched up.“ The rumbled words went straight to Jaskiers own cock, ripping a moan from Jaskiers throat. Geralt's teeth grazed his ear, nipping at his lobe. „Just hold it in a bit longer, I‘m so close. You're doing so good for me...“ Geralt's voice, no more than a low thunder, felt like it came right out of Jaskier’s own chest. Jaskier whined and let out a sharp breath at the praise.

And then Geralt moved again, not frantic like before but all long, slow, deliberate strokes like he was relishing the tight slide, Jaskiers body gripping him, desperate and needy for any kind of release. Jaskier tried to focus on small things to distract himself. The way Geralt worked bruises into his neck with hot lips and sharp teeth. A soothing tongue running over angry red marks. 

Geralt's left hand slid up Jaskiers side to his pec and uncharacteristically gently circled his nipple, while his right still held him upright against the wall. Jaskier moaned and panted, every muscle of his body strained with the effort of not spilling over and the luxury of Geralt's undivided attention.

Geralt's mouth found his in a searing kiss, all want and need, and it nearly made Jaskier miss how Geralt's hand slid lower, nails scratching through the dark hair on his chest and abdomen until a hot, calloused palm came to rest on his neglected prick. The weight of it alone was already too much and forced a bead of piss out of Jaskiers cock. He threw his head back with the sensation and groaned.

"Fuck, Geralt…" Jaskier could hear Geralt sharply inhaling through his nose as the man was scenting him again, his body going nearly as rigid as Jaskiers own. Jaskier got used to the Witchers habit of using his enhanced senses to gauge how far gone the bard was, but knowing he could surely smell the drop of urine made a weird mixture of lust and shame rise in his blood.

"I'm sorry Geralt, I…" he was rudely interrupted by Geralt growling, an almost feral thing, his cock twitching inside Jaskier. The Witchers right hand tensed, holding his ass in a bruising grip. Jaskier looked up at Geralt through wet lashes, his mouth still slightly opened from whatever he had just wanted to say, the words already forgotten, Geralt's face so close to his, so glorious in it's beauty and the rare expression of confusion, his golden eyes seemingly glowing in the low light of the room.

The Witcher's nostrils flared again, his palm still resting where he had left it, his body unmoving. There was an unspoken question in that piercing gaze and Jaskier had no words to answer it. So he used the leverage he had around Geralt's neck to heave himself up, pressing his lower body up into Geralt's resting palm ever so slightly, the minimal added pressure being enough to end Jaskier’s valiant fight.

A small trickle of hot piss made its way down the shaft of his slightly softened cock to his pubic hair and further, to where their bodies interlocked. Geralt groaned, not taking his eyes off Jaskier, his breathing ragged. The unspoken permission broke down all barriers and Geralt started moving again.

Jaskier tried to unclench his muscles and relax as best as possible, but he couldn't just let go while being pounded like this, his muscles still tight around Geralt's prick. Spurts of piss were forced out of him with every hard thrust, the sensation alien but so good and overwhelming, carrying him closer to a different kind of release. Geralt's hands were back on Jaskier’s ass pressing fingertip shaped bruises into the tender flesh, his grip hard, like Jaskier was the only thing that was holding him upright.

The flow of piss was slowly tapering off now that Jaskier’s orgasm was building, his cock nearly fully hard again. He looked up at Geralt, whos gaze had not wavered even though his movements were getting uncoordinated, his brows were knitted, his expression tense.

Jaskier knew that the Witcher loved watching him fall apart under his ministrations, the bard usually being the one to tumble over the edge first. But today was different, Geralt seemed to hold onto his orgasm to no avail. The Witcher groaned loudly, letting his head fall forwards, sinking his teeth in the meat of Jaskiers shoulder as he slammed in one, two more times and then buried himself as deep as he could as he pumped his release into him.

Jaskier could not contain the moans and babbled praise that fell from his lips, his fingers tangled tightly in the silver locks at the base of Geralt's skull. He was so close himself but he couldn’t get a hand on his cock, the bit of friction he got from Geralt's hairy belly was just not enough. Jaskier squirmed, trying to get himself off, but suddenly Geralt's arms wrapped tightly around his torso, pulling him close.

The witcher was breathing hard and ragged, his forehead leaning against the wall. "Fuck." The rumbled sound fell like a stone into the sudden silence of their room, more growl than word. This was… unusual. Jaskier carded his fingers through Geralt's hair, looping his own arm around the witcher's shoulders to rub soothing circles into the others' back.

"You alright there?" Jaskier pressed his lips to the side of Geralt's head. "Was that too much?" The Witcher's hard breathing turned into low chuckles. He started "Fuck no, it was-" but was quickly interrupted by the bard, who always ran his mouth when his insecurities reared their head. "Thank the lords, I thought this might've been the end of this… whatever this is between us." "Jaskier…" "I mean I would've understood if this was not your cup of tea, I certainly did not know it was mine!" "Jaskier, I-" "If I'd known that you were into this we could've done it before the bath though, now you'll smell like I marked my territory all over you-" He was interrupted by a growl and the feeling of Geralt's still painfully hard cock twitching inside him.

Jaskiers mouth snapped shut, his teeth clacking. He hummed, considering his words for a second, knowing that with the witcher’s self consciousness it was easy to misstep. He'd heard of Witcher stamina but staying hard after an orgasm was nothing that had ever occurred before, so something was different.The grip of his tangled fingers tightened, the nails of his other hand lightly scraping over the Witchers scarred back. 

“Do you like that thought?" Jaskier's melodious voice had dropped to a whisper, his nose buried in the Witcher's soft hair, inhaling his scent. "Everybody knowing that you're mine?”A wounded sound escaped Geralt through grit teeth, his arms tightening around Jaskier. This was an unexpected development, but not an unwelcome one. 

“Use your words Geralt, darling. What do you want?” Jaskier knew this was a lot to ask. He couldn’t remember the last time Geralt asked for anything he needed. He took care of things himself or took what was given to him, he did not allow himself to actually want for things.Jaskier had learned to navigate the Witchers needs over the years he had accompanied him, but this was new. This was not something he couldn’t figure out through grunts and hms. 

There was more silence from Geralt’s side while the Witcher was wrestling with his thoughts and the right words to voice them. Jaskier petted Geralt's back encouragingly, trying to ignore the slight chill of the piss cooling on his skin, the feeling of Geralt’s seed slipping out of his well fucked hole. The Witcher took a shaking breath, lifted his head and gazed at Jaskier.

He looked almost shy, insecure, as much as that was possible for a man of his intimidating size and build. His amber eyes flickered nervously as he took a second breath, preparing himself for the words. The Witcher's voice was rough but small, a whisper that might’ve been lost if Jaskier wasn’t so close to him.  
“Can you... fuck me?”


End file.
